Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE LINCOLN-CHILD, by JAMES OPPENHEIM Poet's Biography First Line: Clearing in the forest Last Line: Work wrought through love! Subject(s): Lincoln, Abraham (1809-1865); Presidents, United States | ||||||||
Clearing in the forest, In the wild Kentucky forest, And the stars, wintry stars strewn above! O Night that is the starriest Since Earth began to roll -- For a Soul Is born out of Love! Mother love, father love, love of Eternal God -- Stars have pushed aside to let him through -- Through heaven's sun-sown deeps One sparkling ray of God Strikes the clod -- (And while an angel-host through wood and clearing sweeps!) Born in the wild The Child Naked, ruddy, new, Wakes with the piteous human cry and at the mother-heart sleeps. To the mother wild berries and honey, To the father awe without end, To the child a swaddling of flannel -- And a dawn rolls sharp and sunny And the skies of winter bend To see the first sweet word penned In the godliest human annal Frail Mother of the Wilderness, How strange the world shines in And the cabin becomes chapel And the baby lies secure -- Sweet Mother of the Wilderness, New worlds for you begin, You have tasted of the apple That giveth wisdom sure. Soon in the wide wilderness, On a branch blown over a creek, Up a trail of the wild coon, In a lair of the wild bee, The rugged boy, by danger's stress, Learnt the speech the wild thing speak, Learnt the Earth's eternal tune Of strife-engendered harmony -- Went to school where Life itself was master, Went to church where Earth was minister -- And in danger and disaster Felt his future manhood sir! All about him the land, Eastern cities, Western prairie, Wild, immeasurable, grand; But he was lost where blossomy boughs make airy Bowers in the forest, and the sand Makes brook-water a clear mirror that gives back Green branches and trunks black And clouds across the heavens lightly fanned. Yet all the future dreams, eager to waken Within that woodland soul -- And the bough of boy has only to be shaken That the fruit drop whereby this Earth shall roll A little nearer God than ever before. Little recks he of war, Of national millions waiting on his word -- Dreams still the Event unstirred In the heart of the boy, the little babe of the wild -- But the years hurry and the tide of the sea Of Time flows fast and ebbs, and he, even he Must leave the wilderness, the wood-haunts wild. Soon shall the cyclone of Humanity Tearing through Earth suck up this little child And whirl him to the top, where he shall be Riding the storm-column in the lightning-stroke, Calm at the peak, while down below worlds rage, And Earth goes out in blood and battle-smoke, And leaves him with the Sun -- an epoch and an age! And lo, as he grew ugly, gaunt, And gnarled his way into a man, What wisdom came to feed his want, What worlds came near to let him scan! And as he fathomed through and through Our dark and sorry human scheme, He knew what Shakespeare never knew, What Dante never dared to dream -- That Men are one Beneath the sun, And before God are equal souls -- This truth was his, And this it is That round him such a glory rolls -- For not alone he knew it as a truth, He made it of his blood, and of his brain - He crowned it on the day when piteous Booth Sent a whole land to weeping with world pain -- When a black cloud blotted the sun And men stopped in the streets to sob To think Old Abe was dead. Dead, and the day's work still undone, Dead, and war's running heart athrob, And earth with fields of carnage freshly spread -- Millions died fighting, But in this man we mourned Those millions, and one other -- And the States today uniting, North and South, East and West, Speak with a people's mouth A rhapsody of rest To him our beloved best, Our big, gaunt, homely brother -- Our huge Atlantic coast-storm in a shawl, Our cyclone in a smile -- our President Who knew and loved us all With love more eloquent Than his own words -- with Love that in real deeds was spent. O living God, O Thou who living art, And real, and near, draw, as at that babe's birth Into our souls and sanctify our Earth -- Let down thy strength that we endure Mighty and pure As mothers and fathers of our own Lincoln-child -- Make us more wise, more true, more strong, more mild, That we may day by day Rear this wild blossom through its soft petals of clay; That hour by hour We may endow it with more human power Than is our own -- That it may reach the goal Our Lincoln long has shown! O Child, flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone, Soul torn from out our soul! May you be great, and pure, and beautiful -- A soul to search this world To be a father, brother, comrade, son, A toiler powerful; A man whose toil is done One with God's Law above: Work wrought through Love! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN BROWN'S BODY by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET HISTORICAL REFLECTIONS by JOHN HOLLANDER TO ABRAHAM LINCOLN by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON INAUGURATION DAY: JANUARY 1953 by ROBERT LOWELL LINCOLN TRIUMPHANT by EDWIN MARKHAM YOUNG LINCOLN by EDWIN MARKHAM A MAN CHILD IS BORN (1809) by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AT SAGAMORE HILL by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BRUTUS LIVES AGAIN IN BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |
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